Knight of the Underworld
by nightmarecircles
Summary: After sacrificing himself to save his loved ones, an Innistrad native planeswalker named Tristan finds himself on Theros. More specifically, the Underworld of Theros. When his mind is attacked by a strange force he forgets his time as a cathar of Avacyn and becomes a champion of Erebos. He must use the curse that made him a pariah on Innistrad to punish those who defy death.
1. Ordeal of Erebos

"Evil will be extinguished!" Tristan shouted as he unleashed his spell. Shock waves reverberated throughout Devil's Breach. Cultists and devils alike exploded into dust as the roof of the cavern began to collapse.

The young cathar felt more blood rush from his wounds. _Those were pretty fine last words._ He thought. His eyes reflected only peace and he smirked as he fell to his hands and knees. _Too bad no one was here to write those down. _He had always been curious to see what dying felt like. He'd seen so many people die and they always had pain and fear in their faces but here he was smirking at a cave in. His vision began to fade when a heat ignited in his chest. Strangely it didn't hurt. It felt nice, like the night he became a full-fledged cathar, excitement and pride mixed with anxiety. Before he could reminisce, it felt like his body was flung by the chest.

* * *

Tristan's first planeswalk had landed him violently in the Underworld of Theros. He appeared suspended several feet in the open air. He crash landed on what felt like a wooden boat. Something splashed aboard, but it definitely wasn't water. It was sickly yellow, it stank, and it sizzled on the wood of the ferry. A couple of clay masked strangers toppled free from the ferry and straight towards the stinking river. It seemed over for them until a gnarled white hand swept down and caught them. Despite its withered appearance, it was large and strong enough to hold both people. It delivered them safely back onboard.

Tristan sat up as his eyes followed the arm back up to its owner. A figure shrouded in a tattered veil stood behind the boat, towering over several of the dark clouds that filled the sky. The Innistrad native had never seen anything like it. It was humanoid but huge. It was calm but intimidating. It was ragged but awe-inspiring. Everywhere shadows fell on the behemoth they flickered with images of the night sky. It shimmered in green starlight and the glowing river.

"What is that?" Tristan whispered to another passenger, an older woman adorned with a clay mask. She didn't seem to notice Tristan at all. He looked around and saw that every passenger he could see was wearing a strange clay mask. Some were plain replicas of people's faces but others were more decorative.

"Athreos." Another passenger whispered, "God of Passage." A girl about his age squirmed and shoved aside the masked passengers. She sat down next to him. She looked tired; her long unkempt black hair lied mostly on her back but many strands found their way in front of her face. "I'm Ikana."

"God? Passage?" Tristan twisted his face in confusion and fear. Anytime he had run into something new it had tried to kill him. He just prayed to Avacyn he hadn't been noticed by the shrouded monstrosity yet. His wounds were fresh and he was out of energy.

"You poor boy. Grief has taken your wits from you. You are dead and Athreos is delivering you to your last resting place beyond this, the fifth River that rings the world. The final step before the Underworld." She touched the side of his face gently. Her face and body language showed so much pity. "No mask. You didn't even have a funeral." She looked on the verge of tears.

Being dead made sense, but all this underworld talk and rivers and gods sent Tristan's head spinning. Did he not earn the Blessed Sleep? Or maybe there wasn't such a thing as the blessed sleep. Maybe all those who died were here among the strange-looking passengers of the ferry, unable to find rest. He cursed losing his weapons in the cultist's cave.

All Tristan's bewilderment shattered when Ikana frantically whispered, "Oh no!" She began trying to lift Tristan but he couldn't stand. "Athreos has taken interest in you. You aren't dead either are you?" Ikana noticed the steadily growing puddle of blood around Tristan. "You aren't dead, but you might be if you don't let me look at your wounds." Despite his many objections the feeble looking Ikana began unbuttoning his slashed up coats.

Thin red lines in sets of three littered Tristan's pale chest. The devils back on Innistrad had not been kind. There were so many for every one he struck down two more would swoop in and slash him with their claws. A cultist had also given him a deep gash across his stomach with a ritual dagger.

The sight of blood and lacerations didn't faze Ikana the slightest. "I snagged some of this from the temple of Pharika." She pulled a wooden bowl from her leather side pouch. She twisted off the lid and picked up a glob of gray paste in her first and second finger. "This is going to be excruciating. If you start to black out, don't fight it. There's no fighting anything anymore. Surrender. We both belong to Erebos now."

* * *

A pale hand with sickly long fingernails brushed across Tristan's face. The world around him spun and undulated with black mist. The cathar couldn't feel anything but the clawed hand and the intense cold enveloping and piercing him. The raft, Ikana, Athreos, and Devil's Breach felt like a distant memory. He realized he had blacked out. This was a dream, a nightmare.

"Innistrad? A personal favorite of mine, but your zeal will get you killed here cathar. Forget all you know of home. Avacyn has forsaken you. Despair." The voice came from the claw at first but it jumped around. It flew behind him, above him, even within him.

He had nightmares in the past but nothing like this. He felt himself being torn apart mentally and physically. Avacyn has abandoned me. Colin and Sophie escaped but without me or Avacyn to protect them they're as good as dead.

"All truths. Give me your fear, your pain, and your memories. Your nightmares are many and powerful. But you have so much potential for more. So forget her. Death is your lord now. When we meet next, I'll return to you your nightmares one thousand fold."

Tristan could hear chuckling in the distance as he felt himself awaken.

* * *

The stench of the sulfurous river woke Tristan quite unpleasantly. "Rise." A thousand voices commanded. Above them all a bitter angry voice spoke loudest.

He was lying on his back on what felt more like ash than dirt. He slowly opened his eyes, savoring his last moments of blissful ignorance. The sky above him was dark gray with no sun or stars. Above him rested dark clouds that could actually be smoke for all he knew. There didn't seem to be a clear line where clouds ended and smoke began around here.

"Rise!" Whoever the voices were, they didn't like him taking his time.

Wincing in pain the Tristan stood. Expecting an army, he was face to face with Ikana. She held her arms folded around her body, her hands holder her sides in pain. She had her eyes closed tightly and fresh tears slid down her pained face. He took a cautious step forward.

Ikana's eyes flung open and from them poured twinkling stars against a pitch black aura. Like before when he had seen Athreos but instead of sickly green they were and overbearing deep purple.

The countless voices spoke through Ikana. "What are you doing in my realm, mortal? Another rescue attempt no doubt." Cold gripped Tristan from the inside. It was as though his heart was replaced by a block of ice without him noticing. The pain brought him to a knee; he extended an arm towards Ikana for help.

"Stop it! He doesn't know anything!" Ikana managed to overpower the stars shining in her eyes for a brief moment and the cold disappeared and air returned to Tristan's lungs.

"It would seem Ikana isn't lying. She showed me your entrance to my underworld." The voices rang from Ikana once more. "How did you fall from the sky?"

Tristan could only cough and hold his wounds. Ikana, or whatever had a hold of her, scowled impatiently. A loud whipcrack echoed from seemingly everywhere.

"I was seeking you out God of Death. I cannot recall a time before my fall but I seek an ordeal."

Ikana's face twisted in a pain wracked smile. "Oh? Why is that mortal?"

"All things die. Death is order. Death brings peace, brings order. I want to help you maintain the law of death. Those who perverse this system we be brought to you by my hand. Give me an ordeal; I want to fight for you!" The cold poured out of Tristan. He knew he had persuaded Erebos.

"So be it, Tristan. There are those who claim gorgons know the secret of immortality, that my sister Pharika has given them freedom from my realm. There is a temple in a cave on the edge of the Nessian forest. Go there and prove that I am inevitable. Show them no one escapes my world."

The stars lurched from Ikana's eyes and drifted into the smoke clouds. Tristan stood to catch her as she fell. "Oracle of my lord." He whispered. "He needs you alive."

"Please don't go. They've done nothing wrong. Please." She pleaded despite nearly dying from being a conduit for the god of the underworld. Ikana seemed so confused looking at him now. "Are you the same man from the ferry?"

Tristan responded with silence. He placed her gently on a nearby hill. As he walked towards the exit of the underworld he muttered to himself. "Only Erebos is eternal."

* * *

The map the priests of Erebos had given Tristan made finding the temple of Pharika barely easier. Since he was approved by their god, they had equipped him with a hooded cloak trimmed with gold. Followers of Erebos kept to a strict uniform so everyone knew to leave them alone and as a stark reminder of ther mortality.

His orange eyes reflected the sunlight as he looked around. _Forests. All the same in every direction. How animals navigate these things I'll never understand._

"Where are you blasphemers?" He mumbled to the quiet forest. It was oddly still among the trees, as though the beasts of the Nessian forests recognized his attire and knew to keep their distance.

"You stink of death and unfamiliar wilds." A voice spoke sweetly from behind him. A green woman with long hair made of leaves emerges magically from an ancient tree in front of Tristan. She shone with the starlight of Nyx as all gods and their envoys did. "My lady seeks to remove you from her lands." The dryad's sweet voice was no less threatening as she glared at him.

"Believe me; no one wants me out of here more than me." Tristan spoke the truth. He couldn't remember ever being in a forest but he had the strong feeling he had a bad experience in one. His mind itched as he struggled to recall anything.

"Then leave before I have to make you." The dryad threatened as she clenched her fists.

"I am tasked with an ordeal. I am hunting the cult of Pharika in this land. The gorgon, Hythea, claims she is beyond the whip of Erebos. I have come to correct her." Tristan explained. He pulled the hood from his head revealing the determination in his eyes.

"Nylea knows of Hythea. She litters the land with the statues of her prey. Nylea despises these but the gorgon refuses to move them, thinking herself higher than the gods. I will lead you to her but when she petrifies you try to keep your body on the outside of the tree line." The dryad snickered and vanished into the earth. Blades of grass where she stood shimmered with star shine and formed a pathway into the deep woods.

* * *

The journey was calm, animals kept their distance and the dryad remained a silent pathway for Tristan. _Erebos and the map said Hythea was on the edge of the forest. Why is this nymph guiding me the wrong way?_

The snap of twigs brought Tristan to attention. _How did I lose track of myself? Damn leaf-hair led me astray._ He stood in a battle pose, an invisible pole arm pointed in the direction of the sound. Before he could question why his reflexes chose this form an eerily familiar growl surrounded him.

"Wolves." Tristan spat the word with hatred. He was correct three wolves were circling him, all growling and baring their teeth.

The wolf behind him jumped for Tristan's leg. He spun that leg away from its attacker. He planted it firmly in the dirt and struck the wolf in the thigh with his fist. The sensation of wolf fur sent chills down his arm. Memories flashed through Tristan's brain too quick to process. The feel, the smell, and the growls all felt like things he'd experienced dozens of times in the past. Understanding would have to wait. Three hungry wolves wanted him dead.

Without permission from his mind, Tristan's hand reached down into the wolf's shadow, it disappeared up to the wrist. He pulled his arm out and gripped tightly in his hand was a pitch black whip. He arced his arm around and cracked his whip on the second wolf's face.

_Umbramancy?_ Tristan's eyes went wide. _That's right. Shadows bend to my will_. From the whip handle an inky black tendril squirmed in the air in response to Tristan's thoughts.

He glared and whipped the third wolf in the rips. Flesh tore easily from its side and it yelped in pain. The three wolves stood around him, all injured and whimpering. Black mana pooled inside the agent of Erebos as he readied himself.

"Stop! They are not your prey." The sweet voice of the dryad rang out. She materialized in front of Tristan once again. "You passed the trial. I will lead you to Hythea."

The whip wrapped around the nymph's neck. Wherever it touched the star field painted on her body it too shone with the glory of Nyx. "Why?" Tristan growled.

She gagged, "Nylea is sick of the petrified bodies of fools like you in her forest. They are an eyesore. The wolves would have made a meal of you and the rest fed the soil."

He tightened the whip. "Fool me again and I will bring hand of Erebos down on every wolf in this forest." The tendril uncurled and melted into Tristan's shadow. "Now lead!" He roared.

* * *

The smell of incense was strong at the mouth of the cave leading to the temple of malady and Tristan's target, Hythea. The dryad's sweet voice shuddered with unease, "I can go no further. That belongs to Pharika. Though I am sure I will see your face again, frozen in fear once Hythea delivers you above ground."

"Thank you for the words of confidence, nymph." Tristan shoved her aside and entered the cavern.

As he walked down the narrow passageway he sent his shadow ahead in the form of a shade. It crept across the walls and ceiling putting out torches and searching for traps. Tristan had crossed three snake pits and two walls that fired poison arrows before running into three green robed women.

"Take me to Hythea." Tristan demanded. Shadowy fingers stretched unseen in the darkness; closing in on the disciples of Pharika.

"Our mistress has beaten death without bending a knee to him. The jealousy of Erebos is laughable." One of the hooded women joked. The other two to her sides giggled.

Anger rose up in Tristan's gut. The tendrils lashed out, entangled them and dragged them to his sides. "Where is Hythea!? Tell me now and they live!"

"Who lives? My pets?" The robes next to Tristan went limp. Snakes from within them charged straight to Tristan. He shredded them with blades of darkness but the woman escaped deeper into the cave.

Tristan snarled and continued his trek. Pharika's people were tricky. She was the god of poisons which meant any wound from them would likely be immediately fatal.

Something splashed under Tristan's sandal. It stank. Pharika was also the god of potions. Her servants had access to all manner of alchemic tricks.

A dim torch flickered further down the hall. "Erebos is declawed." The woman from before threw her torch to the ground and the entire chamber caught fire. She must have cooked up something flammable to dispel the darkness.

Tristan leapt back towards the darkness but the woman was smart. He was surrounded by flames on all sides. She charged him, easily dodging the flames she made. A foot away from her target she revealed twin daggers still dripping with poison. Tristan managed to grab her forearms. He needed to stall her to bring up a shade with this much light around him.

He managed to conjure two tendrils from the shadows on his hands. They plunged into the woman's wrists and she dropped the daggers into Tristan's waiting hands. She grabbed him by the arms, blood pouring from her wrists. They had exchanged positions but Tristan was stronger and less wounded. He lifted a leg and kicked her in the stomach, knocking her to her back amongst the fire.

"Tell Erebos I'll be finished with my ordeal soon." Tristan commanded as he brought the daggers into her shoulders. She screamed but it was cut short by foam and blood.

* * *

"Another lackey of Erebos." Hythea hissed as Tristan ascended the steps toward her altar. She was adorned with gold jewelry and a wide brimmed hat that obscured her eyes. "I was afraid he had given up, I needed one more of you fools to complete my latest work of art."

Sunlight filtered into the altar room from above. Tristan had assumed there was a passage to the forest for Hythea to set up her 'works of art.'

"I call it, Arrogance of the Gods. Fools like you and all manner of Nylea's rodents have been assailing me for years. Mortals should not associate themselves with those kinds of gods. They care nothing for us anyway." Hythea contorted her face in disgust as she spoke of gods. "You must come from a polis. You've seen how gods can properly influence mortals, just as Pharika has influenced me."

"I'm not here to listen to you preach. I'm here to bring order to this world. Death brings finality. Finality is needed to keep egomaniacs like you in check." Tristan shouted. He sent two sharp tendrils toward the gorgon but she batted them away like they were ribbons.

"So be it." Hythea mumbled. She darted at him; her snakelike body was quicker than Tristan thought it should be. She swung her claws at his face and he countered with dark tendrils. She was stronger than she looked too. Tristan didn't think he could win this if things didn't change.

One of Hythea's claws found Tristan's arm. Blood sprayed from gorgon's hat down to the floor. Tristan gritted his teeth and brought a thin line of shadow from his hand to hers. It tangled her claw still stabbing into his arm. She smiled. She was much stronger than him. She pulled him closer. His forehead pressed up against her hat. He could almost see her face; he would be turned to stone at this rate.

Another tendril wrapped around Hythea's free wrist and pulled it aside. Once again she overpowered the darkness but it had given Tristan enough time to get his hand under her hat. He felt his hand grasp her face.

"No one is immortal." The shade cast by her wide hat condensed into a solid mass around her head. She flung him across the chamber and into the altar shattering it. She clawed over and over again at the thick mass of darkness cutting off her access to air. Again and again it compressed over her head, each time coming closer to shattering her skull.

Hythea's muffled screams cut short with a sickly crack. Her head was crushed completely. Blood slowly trickled from beneath the shadow mass.

Tristan sighed heavily. His heart was pounding in his throat but he began to relax. He followed the few rays of sunlight until he stood in a clearing in the Hessian forest. He was encircled by statues of men and women clearly from the cult of Erebos.

He pushed one down and it shattered against the forest floor. Holding the cuts on his arm he smirked, "I don't get art."

With that he demolished the remaining petrified bodies. It was better than standing out in the forest. _This way their souls may make it to the underworld. May Avacyn deliver you the blessed sleep._

Tristan couldn't recall what that meant but his mind went immediately there as he brought the peace of death. His mind itched again but he shook off. He had a long journey back to the underworld ahead of him and no time to question his frequently strange reflexes.


	2. Champion of Erebos

Athreos rowed silently as Tristan sat among the freshly deceased on the ferry. They shuffled blindly in the darkness, their eyes further obscured by clay masks. The fully realized champion of Erebos gazed in mutual silence at the God of Passage. He had grown a great respect for Athreos, the way he dutifully managed the care of the dead and order in the underworld was admirable. He never complained. His ego never got in his way, there was only the task. _And what a task! The noble enforcement of the order and finality of life and death._

It had taken a while, but after several trips across the rivers Tristan began to notice the measures that Athreos took to fulfill his duty. It was a beautiful subversion of the rules used to more efficiently uphold them. Skeletal griffins perched on rocks, keeping eye for straggling dead. Golden helmed zombie soldiers marched tirelessly around the perimeter. These undead precautions kept the living from trespassing into the underworld and the dead from escaping as "the Returned."

_What a cute name for those who defy death. They were blasphemers and abominations, all of them._ The priests of Athreos that waited at the river's edge had explained the process of 'returning' to Tristan. It was overly complex but he had understood enough. When any sentient race dies they transfer to the underworld. To escape, said deceased must sacrifice their identity and memories. Essentially they had to split their souls from their bodies. This created two undead creatures, a returned and an eidolon, zombie and a spirit. _A ghoul and a geist…_

Tristan's mind itched again. Whenever thoughts of his unknown past brought strange words to his mind it itched painfully. This itching would become an intense burning sensation unless shaken away by changing his focus, usually to his duty.

Due to his seething hatred of the returned, Erebos tasked him with eliminating the undead. He had gone on several raids of both necropoleis and was returning to Erebos now to ask permission for an encampment on the Setessa border. An unusual amount of returned sightings had taken place near several farms.

A piercing shriek echoed further downriver. A skeletal griffon sentry spotted something. Tristan and the sentry seated at the side of Athreos turned immediately. Before the lost ones could shuffle to face the sound Tristan had mounted the sentry and they were both in the dull gray sky. They were at the scene almost instantly. Despite lacking real wings the sentries of the underworld flew at terrifying speeds. Tristan joked that they were propelled by Athreos' sense of duty.

"Set up a perimeter. No one escapes." Tristan commanded his mount. He smirked and tumbled from the skeleton's back.

In the underworld, black mana was everywhere. Tristan never felt more powerful than he did under the sunless starless sky. He conjured shadows from under his robes. He had claimed several golden masks from his kills. He had six gold mask trophies on his body. Three tied into his robe. One mask sat on each knee like armor. The last was his favorite; it was from the lead zombie in a raid party on a leonin camp. It was a returned minotaur. It had come back to its stomping grounds in life that was now occupied by leonin.

The shadows emerged into the dull light and enveloped his arms. Giant black avian wings exploded from his shoulders. Several mighty flaps of his new wings and the champion of Erebos was on the ashen ground by the cloaked person the sentry had spotted. As he landed the shade wings lost their form and danced to his right hand and became an intimidating whip.

He cracked the whip and demanded, "Who dares mock the god Erebos?" Tristan flicked his wrist and the whip wrapped around the perpetrator's cloak. Another flick yanked it from its owner.

"Erebos is no god! He is a bully and kidnapper!" Ikana shouted as she turned to Tristan.

"Oracle Ikana?" Surprised, the words tumbled accidentally from his mouth.

"He took me from my parents, from my temple! From Pharika, my true god!" She shouted while holding back tears.

Tristan didn't know what to do, Ikana had saved him on the ferry, and hers was the only human name he recalled in the murk of his mind. They had grown close, they talked every time he came back to get orders from Erebos. She was his oracle, she had the duty to be his eyes, ears, and voice in the mortal realm.

The underworld went still. A beam of Nyx light poured into the sky above the horizon. It filled up the space like water pouring into a humanoid cast. Detail began to form and before long Erebos himself stood. He was an unfathomably large gray skinned man from the chest up. Twin golden masks and a wrap of purple cloth adorned his shoulders. The space down to his hips was a thin star filled spinal column. His arms were obscured by loose sleeves made from much more of the purple cloth. The openings dangled from his hand below the horizon. In one of them he held his whip Mastix. From the handle the lash arced and twisted around him. Tristan couldn't see the end of it. Both sides of his bald head had large twisting horns with still more fabric cascading from them.

The God of the Dead's eyes opened and Nyx filled smoke billowed from them. He opened his mouth and sorrow seemed to flow out across the underworld. His voice was the moaning of the damned mixed with the screams of the dying.

"He means to congratulate you on catching me." Ikana muttered furiously. "I had gotten rid of two sentries before that one made a sound." She kicked a nearby cask of gold. Brought by the deceased, treasure littered the underworld but was claimed as Erebos. The god didn't value gold but he enjoyed the sight of it. To him it represented his power. Mortals spend their lives gathering wealth, but his collection of gold reminded them it won't keep them from his land.

"He says you've done so well these past few months. He says you are the perfect champion. Your immediate acceptance of your amnesia teaches other mortals that he is a god of acceptance. The prayers have flowed in nicely." Ikana made a face of mockery as she translated for the god. Erebos no longer made her suffer to communicate; he thought she had been humbled. Tristan felt sorrow knowing she would be punished for trying to escape.

"You honor me lord. I actually have something I'd like to ask of you." Tristan's voice trembled. Standing beneath the true form of a god, especially this god, made something deep inside him afraid.

"He means to reward you for your deeds champion." Ikana interrupted loudly. She managed to crack a smile at Tristan's expense. She thought it was funny when Erebos requested she interrupt people. It made her feel powerful she had admitted.

"The duty is the reward." Tristan chimed in. "I ask permission to set up an outpost by Setessa. I have heard too many rumors of very organized returned lurking around there. I need to protect the farmlands from these monsters."

"He agrees to a point." Ikana interrupted with another grin. "He also admits that this reward will help you perform your duty. And I think it's not really a reward at all…" Ikana winced as she spoke the last sentence. Erebos didn't like her to add her own ideas while being his voice.

Erebos' god-voice intensified. Moans almost drowned out by screams of suffering as the whip of Erebos, Mastix, twisted and crawled in the air like a massive serpent preparing to strike. The frayed end of the whip encroached on the two living mortals in the underworld.

"Take it Tristan. Use my whip to remind the poleis they truly belong to me." The thousand voices were pouring loudly from Ikana now. "Go to Setessa as you requested but do not linger. Use Mastix. Clean the land. But save no one. The fates' blade lingers on the threads of those mortals. Their time is near, they belong to me. Once the insults to my reign finish with the farmhands and warriors slay them, but not a moment before." Erebos' form exploded into a Nyx-field and vanished.

Tristan's heart sank into his gold sandals. Mastix resonated with power in his hand. It had slithered there while he was fighting back anger listening to Erebos. He understood that all mortals die, why did it matter when. During his missions as a champion he'd seen many in danger and rescued them all. Erebos must have learned and found it unpleasant. Tristan didn't know why he was compelled to keep humans safe but he didn't care to fight it. It made him feel good in fact. But he accepted his orders, resigned those Setessan people to their fates in his mind. He didn't utter a word until he was once again under the night sky.

* * *

"Dammit!" Tristan whispered intensely. He was hidden just outside a farm. The golden wheat shimmered in the Nyx light. This beautiful scene was going to be bloodstained soon enough. HE had watched the mostly male group of farmhands working the fields, while the exclusively female warriors patrolled the perimeter. He had managed to sneak past in the thicker brush of the forest nearby.

That was how they did it in Setessa. The women ran everything and what few men stayed were tasked with work in the fields, tending to the plethora of children, and training animals. There where animals and children everywhere in Setessa, whose borders blended with the forest. It took a lot to keep the animals off Tristan's scent. He would scare them into fleeing and find a new hiding place.

The workers had gathered the crops and were enjoying some down time before resuming chores at sunrise. Everything here was making Tristan's mind itch. Every patrolling warrior, every girl, and every farmhand glistening in the light made Tristan's mind itch. _Did I know a fierce warrior woman before I was taken to the underworld? Did I have a daughter? I'm hoping I knew a few guys like these before I lost my mind. If I was with just one man like that before I wouldn't care what else my life was._

"Did you hear that?" A Setessan warrior barked as she turned to the woods. Before she could shush the animals and others she was full of arrows.

Tristan fought his instinct to fight. He wanted to jump down from the tree post and shred every gray skinned zombie in those woods. The sight of the woman's blood made his skin burn. _They belong to Erebos. It is not my place to defy his divine understanding._

The other patrolling warriors jumped to formation. Two ran to go warn the farmhands in their quarters.

_That's not going to work. They are monsters not another army and not wild animals. Monsters fight differently, you can't predict._

Tristan was correct, more arrows poured from all around them. The undead charged after that. Oddly coordinated and oddly unmasked gray skinned soldiers swarmed the Setessans. Tristan didn't look but the sounds were stomach turning. A shriek of terror from a girl made Tristan open his eyes.

She was running toward the zombies screaming the name of one of the warriors. It must have been her mother. A tall fit man ran after her but he was too far back and the returned had looked to her. He wouldn't reach her before the undead. Even if he did, they would both die anyway.

The warriors fought bravely against the undead but none of them could break ranks and rescue the child. Tristan started grinding his teeth. Sweating profusely he looked away again. A tear fell from his eye and his mind caught fire.

His field of vision turned to a colorless view of Nyx. _Did I fall out of the tree? _He turned his head. _No. It's Nyx as far as I can see._ A shape appeared and slowly formed into the familiar silhouette of Athreos' ferry. It drifted to him on an invisible river. The dark wood of the ferry glistened with greenish Nyx as it passed below his floating body. Only a Setessan woman and human sized version of Athreos stood onboard. Athreos looked up at Tristan and his tattered veil fell to his feet. The god's face was replaced with a spiraling nebula of Nyx spun and grew. It pulled him in. Dragged him down and he understood.

"Sophie! Colin! Get out of here!" Tristan screamed as he crashed Mastix down on the two returned charging the girl. The whip eradicated the undead, their gold swords clattered to the dirt.

Farmhands, children, warriors, and even the returned stood dumbfounded. Above Tristan the sky shifted and danced. Stars flew and shapes began to gather. Tristan had an audience of the divine. He couldn't tell what watched him, and he didn't care.

Tristan spun and whipped undead off the Setessans.

"Form a ring! You two, run like hell!" Tristan was shouting orders like they were lines he had memorized. It felt natural. "Shield help more than swords! It takes one bite to kill you! Focus on blocking! Spears up!"

Tristan's authoritative tone bolstered the warriors. They appeared to be trainees, not experienced enough to think midfight. They needed a commander and Tristan would give them one. He looked to the first victim of the returned attack. _No one else is going to die tonight!_

The Setessan defense stood as Tristan wielded Mastix against the returned. The shadow of every Setessan spear darted into the air. A wall of shadow lances encircled the Setessans striking out at every monster that encroached, until they kept their distance.

The returned stood still. The sudden pause brought a suspicious calm to the battlefield. A dark force echoed beyond the tree line.

"Run!" Tristan's voice was loud and his eyes were wide with fear. "Run to your homes! Get your leaders!"

The warriors broke rank and scampered towards the polis. The undead did not give chase. They were waiting for whatever was in the woods to show up. The Setessans had all made it out alive when it broke the tree line flanked by a dozen masked returned.

Tristan's mind itched and his blood began to boil when the demon came into view. His body was plated with gold from hoof to horn. His arms and wings spread wide, circling the returned at his sides.

"Aren't you a surprise?" The demon hissed. "There were to be no real warriors here this night, let alone a man who commands the shadows. This land is mine. I am tired of the dullness of Erebos' realm. I hunger for life and to taste the succulence of the famed Setessan warriors. Women in the underworld are boring. Wouldn't you agree champion of Erebos?"

Tristan's orange eyes burned with fury. He had never felt this level of hatred to this evil creature. The shadows receded to his, making it look like a mass of tendrils more than a man but nothing was solid yet.

"I don't care if you know who I am. You brought these to the mortal world. The dead belong to Erebos. They deserve to sleep, but you robbed them of peace." Tristan seethed. "That means I am going to kill you." He fought back tears of anger.

Tendrils pierced the undead stragglers. Only the demon and his masked entourage remained. They didn't flinch at Tristan's attack.

"Finished?" The demon growled. "You'll need to do better." The demon nudged his head towards Tristan.

Three returned drew their swords and charged. One was immediately brought down by Mastix. It was a decoy Tristan quickly realized the other five were poised well away from his shadow and within attacking range now. He would have to pull the whip back before striking another down.

Completely synchronized the undead attacked. Tristan ducked down and his shadow swept up, it pierced three returned necks but the other two found their target. Two gold swords found Tristan's sides and he screamed in pain. The blades were enchanted to leave excruciating pain in the wounds Tristan realized the hard way. He motioned his arms in a pantomime of hurling spears and his shadow responded with physical spears through the masks of the remaining undead. Tristan pulled a third spear from nowhere and pointed it at the demon. The point shifted into a glaive blade. "You're just making me angrier! Do you want to die monster!?" The champion of Erebos stopped trying to fight the itch in his mind and gave in to instinct. The pain had made him act on instinct.

Before the demon could answer Tristan was in his face with his glaive gliding effortlessly through the demon's wing. The wing made a wet noise when it hit the ground accompanied by the clink of gold. This time it was the demon's turn to scream.

Tristan's itching mind produced words and spells he didn't understand. These spells were different than his usual darker ones. They shined in his mind like the sun but without its fire. It was a calming silver light winding through his body and pouring from his fingers. When the light hit the demon it peeled the golden armor from the vile being and turned his skin to silver.

"What cannot be destroyed will be bound!" Tristan shouted as loud as he could.

The light cleared and Tristan stood alone. He faced the warped shape of the demon's empty twisted armor. Within it he held a massive chunk of silver. It glowed softly. Tristan absorbed the demon's essence from the newly created miniature Helvault. His mind no longer itched. His life had returned. Innistrad. Avacyn. Devil's Breach. The Skirsdag. He remembered everything and he understood the nightmare's words. He felt his new devotion to Erebos, the months of being his lackey, burn his heart. Everything about Erebos was wrong. He was no shepherd like Avacyn. He didn't care about the living or the dead, he just preferred everyone and everything be as miserable as him. The whole system made Tristan scream with rage.

So many questions swam in his mind. His last thought before the pain from his wounds overcame him was of Colin and Sophie. He had survived his martyrdom, which meant he needed to find and protect them. He began to pass out but he could hear the chuckling from his nightmare. "I told you your sorrow would return so much worse. Everyone has betrayed you now. Even you."


End file.
